Setting her glass on the table, Jacy spread her legs and sat on my lap facing me. Her hands lightly clasping my neck, she gazed solemnly into my eyes. “Make love to me.”
“Here? On the couch?”
“I don’t care.”
I glanced at Max, sound asleep in front of the fire. With Declan zonked out upstairs, I saw no reason to not indulge Jacy in a bit of hanky panky on the couch. Reaching behind me, I shut the light off. Only the dancing flames illuminated us as we kissed, our tongues tangled, our dragon’s heat growing between us.
I pushed her back onto the sofa and stripped her jeans from her. Jacy’s pussy already dripped her arousal as I plunged two fingers into her. She moaned, arching her back, as I finger fucked her while my cock yearned for her. Too eager, too hepped up on my discovery, their close brush with death, I opened my fly and pounced on her delectable body.
Chapter Fifteen
Jacy
Avery plunged his thick, hard cock into me. Spearing me, he spread me wide, his thrusts coming hard and fast. My face buried in his chest, my thighs clamped around his, I dug my fingers into his shoulders and fought my growing climax.Not yet, not yet, not yet.
In my mind’s eye, I saw us flying together, making love in mid-air, Avery plunging his dragon cock into me even as our wings and legs tangled together. Toward earth we plunged, falling from the sky, our bodies so firmly wrapped together one couldn’t discern whose leg or wing or neck belonged to whom.
The fantasy brought me gasping, orgasming hard, to reality. Avery drove in and out as I climaxed, my teeth biting into his flesh above his left nipple. My pussy spasmed and convulsed, carrying me to new heights of pleasure. He groaned as he came, his seed spurting deep into my womb, his thrusts hard, fast.
A quickie it may be, but oh, so pleasurable.
Collapsing on me, Avery breathed raggedly, his dick softening within my pussy. I held him to me, kissing and licking the sweat from his throat, my nails running up and down his spine.
Then Max’s nose split us apart as he licked both our faces, whining his happiness. Grumbling under his breath, Avery shoved him away. Sitting up, he closed his pants then lay againstthe sofa’s back with his eyes closed. I sat up, and tugged my panties on, dismissing my jeans.
I curled up against his ribs, his arms around me, as Max joined us on the couch. With a grunt and a sigh, he lay against me, then put his nose on his paws. And slept.
“He’s not getting much better,” I murmured, caressing his ears. “He’s got PTSD.”
“I know,” Avery rumbled. “But I doubt this town has doggy counseling.”
“There has to be something we can do,” I murmured. “War dogs come home with PTSD.”
He kissed my brow. “I’m sure you can find a way to bring him back.”
“I hope so.”
***
I killed a human being. Max isn’t the only one with PTSD.
Days passed since the night I killed a would-be killer and discovered my true self. Avery worked to bring in the money to keep us afloat, Declan happily learned to read, and I studied up on the mystery of dragons.
Throughout human lore, dragons played a part. They created legends around us, myths, stories. Later, we became either heroes or villains in stories and movies. For example, Smaug, the gold hoarding dragon in Tolkien’sThe Hobbit,was a bad dude.While I never craved to sleep for sixty years on a mound of gold, I wondered if that story might have a basis in fact.
“A gold loving, hoarding dragon who took what he could, killed interlopers, and defended his hoard. Sounds like a dragon to me.”
Declan poo-pooed the notion. “Dragons don’t want gold, Jacy. They want love.”
I chuckled as I hugged him. “I sure love you, kiddo.”
“Love you, too, Jacy.”
His brush with death didn’t seem to have affected him at all. Perhaps because he’d been semi-conscious after the crash and simply didn’t remember much. Or, being a dragon, he could brush off emotional trauma as he might have a slight cold. I had a great deal to learn about dragons.
Which of my parents, or both, was a dragon?
My father died just a few months ago. I never knew my mother. She died of an unknown cause not long after I’d been born. If my father was dragon kind, why didn’t he tell me? Obviously, if my mother was, she couldn’t have passed on her knowledge as well as her birthright to her daughter, me. She died before she could.
